


Druga Stranica Na Okean

by cellwright



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Existentialism, Gen, Heavy Angst, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellwright/pseuds/cellwright
Summary: Ryuji Sakamoto becomes one with the sea.Or: Akira dies on his way to Tokyo, and everyone's lives take a turn for the worst without their wildcard
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Sakamoto Ryuji & Takamaki Ann
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Druga Stranica Na Okean

**Author's Note:**

> heavy, heavy trigger warning, mind the tags

Ryuji Sakamoto had loved the ocean since he was a kid. 

He and his mom would go whenever his dad said he was going to be at work for a while, when he'd be gone an entire day or two and Ryuji and his mom would finally get out of the house for it. His mom always said the beach was where all their troubles could wash away like the sea foam that ran up and down the damp sand, where they didn't have to worry about any father or husband to lay a hand on them when they were warming in the sun. 

Then Ryuji's father left, and Ryuji's mom began taking more shifts at the hospital. They didn't need to escape to the beach anymore.

It was alright. Every summer after he got a train card, Ryuji took it upon himself to wake up in the wee hours of the morning and catch a train to the beach, decked out in his exercise clothes and running shoes to jog along the beach at sunrise. He was only in middle school, his times were shit for a thirteen year old, but he liked it. Liked how he needed to pour sand out of his shoes after every run. Liked how he couldn't breath when he ran _just_ enough, how every swallow of air was ragged in his lungs, he'd have beg himself to stop. To take a break. 

Ryuji wouldn't, though. He'd run up and down the beach until his thighs burned, until pure fire ran up his shins with every step he took and he could barely breathe in without another swell of air trying to fight its way through his mouth. The locals made their rounds in the streets when Ryuji would leave, when he'd drag his tiny body to the train station to catch a ride home before his mom woke up. Thankfully, she'd sleep for pretty long when she got the chance, so most of the time Ryuji was safe. 

Until he was caught, and his mom was more worried about strangers on the train car than she was the extent that Ryuji was pushing his body, but that was alright. He didn't tell her about that part. 

He still ran on the beach afterwards, though not as often. It wasn't the same when it wasn't a secret. 

Instead, he ran around the neighborhood. It was the same result, never the same _feeling_. What mattered was that his legs felt numb after every one, and that was all that mattered, really. 

Then, Shujin. Shujin, Kamoshida, the fancy high school track that came along with the entire package. 

Ryuji told himself he'd handle Kamoshida if it meant giving his mom a reason to not give up on him. He wasn't blind to the way she'd sigh at the stacks and stacks of bills they had waiting for them on the coffee table, the glances she'd give him when she thought he wasn't looking. He knew. They were sorrowful, pitiful, even. Ryuji didn't know what he did to deserve them. Wondered if he was that much of a burden, if he even deserved a second glance. 

And just as soon as he became familiar with the track, he became familiar with a hospital room. Constant shooting pain from his leg-- he didn't think he'd ever know what it felt like to take a bat to the knee, but Kamoshida was kind enough to defend himself with the method. The track team was disbanded. 

Ryuji couldn't remember the few months after that. He'd sleep on a shitty, thin hospital bed mattress and two shitty, thin hospital pillows and dream of his mom crying, apologizing for being a single mother and not taking care of them properly. Dream of a faceless dad who would shout at him, and somehow that felt better than replaying the image of his mom sobbing at the end of his hospital sock-clad feet. 

His knee hurt. Like hell, he didn't think it would ever stop. The doctors said it might not. Physical therapy, months and months on crutches, Ryuji knew it was just another hefty bill on the table. It wouldn't stop hurting. 

He died his hair when his mom was out on an-all night shift one evening. Hobbled over to the drug store near his apartment complex, on the pair of crutches that made his underarms ache and left his fingers red with how hard he gripped them to keep straight. He caught a glance at himself in the store front window on his way in-- he hated what he saw. It overwhelmed him almost, just to look at how pathetic he was. Far from the first year track star Shujin's student body came to love- he had ugly, heavy bags under his eyes and his hair grew an ugly length and his body was all ugly and knobbly from how much weight he lost cooped up in the hospital. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't _stand_ properly, _hell_. 

By god, did the bleach burn his scalp. Ryuji definitely didn't follow the instructions correctly, though whether it was from indifference or how blurry his vision was, he didn't have a clue. He didn't cry-- he wouldn't let himself cry. He wasn't allowed to cry, not with his father home, and not when he was alone. 

His hair turned out brassy, shitty mix of blonde and orange when he got out of the shower but he decided he didn't care. Maybe he deserved it, he couldn't even dye his _hair_ right. Hell. 

Ryuji pulled out the unopened razor from the cabinet under the sink and fought with the complicated plastic packaging to get it out of its confines. Unused when he didn't have a dad to teach him how to shave, not like he really had any facial hair to get rid of. His mind a went a few places when he had the heavy weight of the razor in his hands, but he brought it up to his face to shave off the ends of his eyebrows. Spur of the moment, really, he thought he saw it somewhere and everything was too blurry to rationalize it. It burned like hell against his dry skin, almost as bad as the bleach did on his head, and he was bleeding in a few tiny dots where he went too fast, but they were good enough.

New year, new him, he supposed. 

God, Ryuji was _tired_. He-- he couldn't sleep anymore. Not without tiring himself out beforehand, and it brought him to the early hours of the morning when the light would lighten through his blinds and he'd realize he spent more time on his game then he planned. It was enough for him to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, so he wouldn't have to _think_ before he slept. It was a solid system, he thought. He needed to keep occupied or his mind would wander, and he didn't like it when his mind would wander. It was worth it to be tired throughout the day, too. He'd take it if that was what allowed him. It was some faux, laughable peace of mind he didn't think he'd deserve either. 

He floated through the days, at some point. Got back to school, was promptly ostracized. He lost track of the days at some point, ran in deadlines for projects he didn't do and tests he never studied for. It didn't matter, did it? He knew there were great people out there, people that would change the world and recycle enough or what fucking ever, but he was not one of those people. Not in the grand scheme of things, at least. He figured that, even if he became a big time track star, it wouldn't matter then either. He had no place taking up so much space in the universe when it _didn't matter,_ none of it mattered, _shit_. 

It was why he didn't want to give himself any time to think. Not before sleep, not when he was alone with himself. 

There were rumors going around about a new transfer student who would come to Shujin in the next couple of days. A dude, second year. It sparked a little flame of hope in Ryuji, got him excited for something for the first time in months. Maybe things would start mattering, he thought, if he had a blank slate to start with. Someone new to rekindle interest in his core, to make him care about the things he occupied himself with again. 

Until the news came to the student body on the day that the transfer student died on his way to the city, on one of those freak accidents that had been showing up in the news lately. 

Maybe the universe was telling Ryuji something. He continued to float, observe from afar. Wonder, wander. 

Ann Takamaki, he knew her in middle school. Owed her some money, he was pretty sure. Kamoshida couldn't keep his hands off of anyone he took interest in, and she was no exception. For whatever reason, Ryuji wasn't as surprised as everyone else was when she took a swan dive off of Shujin's roof during class time. If not a little dramatic, Ryuji supposed, it was a long time coming. Everyone knew Kamoshida got what he wanted at the end of the day, just as he did with Shiho a couple of weeks before. Though, to think that Ann would follow her best friends footsteps for a suicide... Maybe that caught Ryuji a little off guard, but it was another thing he learned to not think about. No more money he had to owe. 

News outlets hadn't caught on that Shujin's students were dropping themselves like flies, not even when Mishima had enough and was found hung in his room a few days after he came to school with a purple eye and a heavy limp in his step. Ryuji was almost less surprised about it then he was about Ann-- Mishima always got the brunt of Kamoshida's frustrations, everyone knew that. It was a matter of time, really. Even hanging himself was like him. Alone, no attention from others, no one to worry about him. 

Shujin gained a new reputation among its students. Taboo, whispered in the hall, who would do it next? When would Kuboyasu stop blaming everyone but Kamoshida for it? 

Volleyball season came and went, and the next closest thing to suicide anyone saw was Makoto Niijima resigning from her position as student council president. It was more social, educational, future suicide then anything, but regardless. That position was her one way ticket to college considering how much she didn't stand out otherwise, not among the thousands of other candidates she was probably fighting against for spots in top universities. Ryuji heard something about guilt, but he decided he didn't care. She was always a little prissy about her position. If she wanted to do something about Kamoshida, she would have. That's what Ryuji thought, at least. If she cared enough then, maybe she'd be the next to take her life.

That's what Ryuji thought. He became desensitized to his own head. 

He finally let himself think about it. Let it all flood into his head at once, almost dizzying himself enough to tip his balance over. He wondered if he really wanted to be the next down the line, the talk of the hallways for a week before people forgot about him. At least when he was the reason the track team disbanded, people gave him a month of time in their conversations.

Oh, well. 

Fiery winds whipped around him as he steadied himself on the edge of the bridge, over the fence that previously kept him from the edge. It was night, he didn't know what time, what the date was. Enough for the tide of the water under him to be pulled up high and dangerous, though it seemed to be miles below him. The waves were captivating from so far away. Something roared in his ears, it could have been the water. Maybe something in his head, or a far off honk of a car. He didn't know. 

He toed the edge of thick, peeling paint on the bridge's exterior. Ryuji thought about his mom for a second. Wondered what she'd be doing with him gone, but he figured it would be the same old, same old. Ryuji was too temperamental to work, he didn't contribute much of anything. Could barely cook. Gave her some time of day whenever she'd ask him to watch soap operas with her in the living room, though he'd always bring a volume of manga with him to fight off the boredom. Therapy cost less than taking care of another human being, he was sure of it. 

Ryuji left a note, as dumb as he thought it was. Told her not to blame herself, he wanted her to move on and be happy and not spend any money for a funeral, not for him. To buy herself something nice instead. A full meal for once, maybe. She deserved the world, a world without him in it to waste air. 

It was arbitrary, leaving something, but enough. For her. That's what he thought. It was the least he could do. 

He let himself think about where it could have gone wrong. Maybe with his birth, with having his fathers genes. That was made him so bitter, he was sure. Angry, with a temper that could scare bulls off. He got it all from his dad, the deadbeat. He might have had a chance down the line to not turn up like his dad, but... he provoked Kamoshida, and shattered whatever chance he had of not being a burden to his mom, right? He didn't know. 

Maybe it was when that transfer student went and died. Ryuji figured there was near zero chance that the transfer would be friends with him, but it was the first thing that sparked up a little bit of emotion in his gut in a long time and he thought maybe, just _maybe_ , he could let himself dream of something else for a night. To think things up for a moment. 

The transfer must have been taboo, though. After him went Shiho, Ann, Mishima... Ryuji.

Ryuji would do it, that he _did_ know. 

He glanced back down at the ocean under him. The dark waves sloshed around against each other, a mess of in and out lines of white foam wherever they collided. His shoes had a scuff at the toe from where he picked at the paint on the bridge. It didn't matter, though. Not a lot did. He wondered when it stopped. He didn't know. 

Ryuji Sakamoto always loved the ocean. So, he let himself fall forward, and became one with the sea. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was more of a vent than anything, im not expecting any viewers at all. im fine, just needed to write it all out


End file.
